


my best, to keep you satisfied

by Kellyscams, luninosity



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Comfort Sex, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Feeding, Love, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Spanking, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity
Summary: Sebastian's a tease. Chris comes home early. And they definitely both get what they want.
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 40
Kudos: 268





	my best, to keep you satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> We wrote this super-spontaneously over on tumblr, and it was a sheer delight! Inspired by [that amazing gym video of Sebastian with the incredible sub!Seb vibes](https://luninosity.tumblr.com/post/190368103424/awhisper-to-ariot-musette22-source) \- it demanded fic. So we made fic. :D
> 
> Title from the Arctic Monkeys' cover of "Baby I'm Yours," this time.

“Saw that video. You at the gym.”

Chris’s voice rumbles in Sebastian’s ear, low and familiar and anchored in history in so many ways: the recognizable grounding of Boston streets like American stories, and of their own personal history too, the two of them together on film sets and press tours, across the world and at home, because home means the sound of Chris.

Home also means the lazy amused-but-sharpening note in that Dominant’s voice, as Chris puts it on like a beloved role and they both shiver a little with the knowing of that.

Well, Sebastian does. Prickles of awareness right down his spine, as he stands in his living room right on the spot where he’s answered the phone.

He’s pretty sure it’s true for Chris too. That crackle of excitement. That breath-catch, that skip of pulse. They both feel it.

Every time he drops to his knees, every time he settles across Chris’s lap for a spanking, every time Chris orders him to come or to not come, to follow commands, to be good: oh, they both feel it. Yes.

He says, tired and giddy and exhilarated all at once, “Of course you did. I knew he was filming. He asked whether he could post it, and I said yes.” All true. He doesn’t mind his gym workouts being shared with the world, at least in clips and glimpses, these days. And he definitely likes the effect the sharing, and the teasing, has on his other half.

Which Chris knows. So it’s part of the game, part of the play: one more lake they plunge into wholeheartedly, hand in hand.

Chris makes a noise. It’s a grumbly possessive noise, and Sebastian revels in it. “Saw you on your knees. Saw you almost get into _that_ pose. Saw his hands on you.”

“Helping me…get up? Oh, sorry, I mean _stand_ up.”

“Brat. And you liked it, didn’t you? Letting him guide you, movin’ you around, talkin’ to you…I know what you like, Seb.”

“I did like it,” Sebastian admits, enjoying the sneaky guilty pleasurable thrill that bolts along his spine. Chris knows how much he does like things like that, finds them an inadvertent turn-on, slips into the lightest edge of wanting-to-please submissive headspace so easy.

He also knows that Chris in turn knows that he’ll never do anything about it. Sebastian Stan belongs to Chris Evans: that’s a fact. True as gravity, as the continued turning of the world.

Doesn’t mean he can’t provoke Chris a little with his own proclivities, though.

He says, wandering toward his bedroom and his bathtub, “Did you like it, sir? Watching me like that, on display, everybody seeing it?” He’d showered quickly at the gym, but he wants the longer version, the soaking of sore muscles in heat and oil and the scent of coconut, the relaxing soothing version. Ideally with Chris on the phone.

Even more ideal would be Chris here; but that piece of Seb’s heart is currently in Boston, with fans and family and politicians signing up for that wonderful educational cause. That’s okay; Chris will be coming to join him soon. They’ve got a routine for this: fitting into each other’s lives, cozy and domestic.

They’re good. They’re amazing.

He knows they are.

In the bathroom he flips on water, watching it spill into the white clawfooted cradle of the tub, as Chris says, “ _Like_ might not be the word, Seb. You know what I was thinking, watching you.”

“And what if I don’t? Maybe you should tell me.”

“Oh, should I. Okay, then. Thinking I might need to come on over there and put you back on your knees, if that’s what you need. If you’re gonna be looking for it. Remind you who you’re coming home to.”

“Anything in particular you want me doing, while I’m on my knees?” One hand in the water. Not hot enough. More, then.

“Yeah,” Chris tells him, “that tongue, baby, you can put that to good use too. Get me nice and close, like you’re so good at, using that pretty mouth. See if we can get you all out of breath like that, too. Just from sucking my cock, the way you like. And no, you’re not touchin’ yourself, either. You’re gonna wait, no matter how bad you need it. Being good.”

Sebastian, now needing it very desperately, groans. He’s hard and aching under sweatpants; his legs and arms are quiveringly tired but his cock and balls and, yeah, even his hole all need to be used right the fuck now, and oh if Chris were here—he could just kneel down right here by his tub, or bend over the countertops, or get on hands and knees on the tile floor and beg for Chris to touch him, spank him, fuck him—hard and rough, so he can feel it, so he knows, so they both know he’s Chris’s, every part of him…

All of him twitches, flushes, throbs at the imagining.

“Aww, baby,” Chris says, not a trace of remorse audible. “You need it right now, don’t you?”

“ _Please_ , Chris—I was just—”

“Teasing me, and you can’t help it, baby. I know.”

“But I’m yours.”

“Know that, too.”

“So—I swear I’ll be good for you—so can I—”

“Nope. You can wait.”

“Can I just—with my hand or—I could fuck myself with the waterproof—”

“I do love listening when you do that,” Chris says, “but no.” Somewhere a door opens, closes. Sebastian wonders where Chris is; there’s no noise of family, no clamor or laughter. “You’re tired, after that workout, huh? You need to rest. Relax. Take care of yourself.”

“I _could_ if you’d tell me to—”

“No,” Chris commands.

Sebastian, with that order landing like a punch to the gut—one made of sparkles and sprinkles—inelegantly collapses onto the side of his tub and unashamedly whimpers at Chris. God, his cock hurts with it: upright and fat with need, too sensitive as it bumps against his stomach.

“Get in,” Chris tells him. “If it’s hot enough.”

“It is,” Sebastian mutters, and does. And then sighs so loudly Chris can probably hear it from Boston. “Mmm.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” The water’s calming, lapping, tender; his body sinks into it. He’s still shivery with want, cock bobbing under ripples; his skin tingles, sensitive. But that’s a form of tranquility as well, and he tips his head back and soaks it in. Command and denial and Chris’s voice. Soft water and heat and comfort for his muscles, his back, the exertion of the morning as it ebbs toward afternoon.

He likes his body these days. And Chris likes his body. And he likes the way he feels with Chris.

He’s happy.

A few more sounds happen. Footsteps. Some noise that sounds like city bustle.

Sebastian, floating in a haze of hot water and coconut bath oil and Chris’s orders, enjoying his own naked skin and the untroubled simplicity of being good for Chris, murmurs, “Where are you?” He’ll wash his hair and everything in a minute; he just likes being here like this right now.

“Well, about that.” Chris sounds not-out-of-breath in the way of Captain America jogging up a short flight of stairs, or down a hallway, perhaps. “Might have a surprise for you.”

“I like surprises.”

“What’d you say if I said we got done ahead of schedule? With everything out here. So I could head your way early.”

“I’d say…how soon can you be here? To help take care of me. To give me…what I need.” He trails fingers through water, idly.

A key turns in Sebastian’s front door. The door opens.

Not too many people have that key. Only two, in fact. And the odds of this being Sebastian’s mother are pretty low, which means—

He sits bolt upright. Water sloshes, alert and alight.

And Chris Evans, in the world’s softest blue sweater and his favorite red belt and cozy jeans and sock-feet, clearly having jogged all the way up the stairs to Sebastian’s apartment and kicked shoes off in the living room, holding his phone, appears in Seb’s bathroom doorway like a vision of a mildly kinky fluffy-bearded angel and says, “Hey, gorgeous, can I help you with anything?”

It’s cheesy and corny and beautiful and Sebastian loves him. Naked, speechless, he nods.

“Good.” Chris crosses the room, perches on the side of the tub. The phone gets tossed at the counter, along with Sebastian’s, which Chris takes out of his suddenly lax hand; Chris reaches down, after, and strokes Seb’s hair.

Sebastian turns his face into the touch. Lets Chris cup his cheek, as steam rises. Chris’s hand is tender, firm, authoritative; he wants it on him, he wants it in him, but most of all right here and now he wants this.

Being here. Being held.

“So sweet,” Chris says, “for me. My good boy.”

“You’re here,” Seb murmurs, leaning into the touch more. His eyes want to close, but he also wants to drink in every sight of Chris: his Dominant, his partner, the person he loves. “And, yeah, okay, I could use your help…”

“Bet you could.” Chris’s grin’s magnificent: assuming the role, putting on control, but with sheer delight in it all. “I can see how much you need it, there.” They both look. Sebastian’s arousal stands up proudly from the water, craving attention. Unembarrassed, the length stiffens even further under Chris’s leisurely commanding scrutiny, and a pearl slips into the bathwater; Seb’s whole body yearns for more. More command, more control, more ways to be good for this man.

Chris goes on, “Guess I should remind you who gets to take care of you. How it feels when I give you what you need.”

“Oh yes,” Sebastian says, “yes, please, fuck yes, Chris,” and Chris laughs and bends to kiss him, hand sliding to the nape of Seb’s neck as steam tangles in their hair.

Sebastian tastes like soap and a little bit of leftover sweat. He moans softly against Chris’s lips and the sound caresses his soul, home settling into his bones as he nearly melts into the side of Seb’s tub. Steam rises all around them. Hard to tell if that comes solely from the water or if they add to it. Chris smiles at this thought.

“What?” Sebastian asks, moving away only enough to ask his question. “Why’re you smiling?”

Chris chuckles. “Do I need a reason?”

“People usually do.” 

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to the top of Sebastian’s head. “You want my help or not?”

A smirk curls up on Sebastian’s lips, that wickedly submissive streak tucked into the corners of his mouth. His smile feels like home. Second home, really, but home nonetheless. A place where Chris can be clumsy with his words and emotions and know full well that his heart is in strong, steady hands. 

“I do, sir,” he murmurs, turning those big, Prince Charming eyes up at least ten percent. “Very much.”

Hand sneaking beneath the surface of the water, Chris’s fingers graze the top of Sebastian’s thigh. The second he touches him, a breath catches in Sebastian’s throat. He tenses just enough for Chris to see and then slinks a little farther into the water. 

Chris walks his fingers across his leg. Slowly. Slow enough that Sebastian’s eyes squeeze closed and he bites down on that big, luscious lip. Oh, that lip. Every time Chris sees one of his interviews or a video on Instagram and Seb does that bite or lick or nibble it just shoots through Chris’s whole body like sparkles and glitter and leaves him glimmering with need and want. 

This is something Sebastian knows very well, and sometimes, Chris is sure he’s doing it on purpose. But then, the kid is just so damn sweet and adorable that it’s also extremely possible that it’s _never_ intentional. 

But whether it’s intentional or not, that little lip-bite that he does, and is doing right now, makes Chris want him all over again. A strange feeling since he _always_ wants him. 

“Chris,” Sebastian whimpers as Chris’s fingers sneak across the inside of his thigh. “Please.” He shivers in the warm water. “Don’t _tease_ me.”

“No?” Chris clicks his tongue. “Did you _forget_ how this started?”

Eyes flying open, that precious silver swallowed almost in black, Sebastian whimpers and shifts his position. 

“But, Chris, I–” He licks his lips, and this time, Chris is positive it’s not on purpose. “Oh, _rahat_ …” 

“Hey,” Chris whispers, slipping his free hand under Sebastian’s chin and coaxing his gaze to him. “You know I’m going to take care of you.” 

A noise that falls somewhere between a whine and an actual answer falls from those beautiful lips.

Hand still cupping his chin, Chris helps himself to a kiss. Soft. Sweet. Languid, almost. Sebastian kisses back like he’s in a haze. Fast for him, but Chris understands why. 

Between what started at the gym and their playful phone call and having Chris show up like this, it isn’t any wonder.

Their lips are still locked, tongues rolling soft and lazy, when Chris slides one finger up the side of Sebastian’s pretty cock. The water stirs with Sebastian’s reaction enough that some of it splashes over the side of the tub. Chris takes a look at him. At his beautiful boyfriend. Lover. Submissive. That pale gold skin slightly flushed pink. Those muscles that he works so hard at maintaining. Soft locks of dark brown hair–darker now that it’s damp. 

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, “you’re beautiful.” 

Folding a smile in, Sebastian almost giggles and shakes his head. 

“No?” Chris questions. “Are you disagreeing?” 

“I–”

“Because I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world.” There’s that lip nibble again. Chris whispers, “Say it.”

“Chris…”

“ _Sebastian_.”

A whimper. Some struggling with the words and though he makes an attempt to look away, Chris adds his other hand, capturing Sebastian’s face between them both.

“Come on, good boy,” he encourages. “You can do it.”

These days, Sebastian knows that he’s good-looking. That doesn’t mean he always knows how to take a compliment, though, and that shy, sweet guy who wants to be so good for people sometimes has trouble with knowing just how wonderful he is. 

Sebastian’s eyes flick down and then, already knowing that Chris wants him looking, sweep back up to meet his again.

“I’m…I’m the most beautiful person in the world.” 

“Hm. Don’t let that head get too big.”

Scoffing, Sebastian huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, flicking his fingers through the water and splashing some at Chris. Chris laughs and responds by finally wrapping his hand fully around that lush, hard cock that’s been neglected for far too long. 

All traces of rough-housing vanish and Sebastian’s breaths stagger. He swallows hard and trembles and nods, begging with his actions for more. For anything. For Chris to stroke. For Chris to tease some more. For orders. Just something. Which Chris gives him by helping him out of the tub without removing his hand. With his free hand, Chris grabs the big, fluffy towel from off the rack on the wall and hands it over.

“Chris,” Sebastian breathes. “I need–”

“To dry off,” Chris says, beginning to stroke his hand over Sebastian’s cock. “And then we’ll see about getting this taken care of.” 

Not that Chris makes it easy for him. Not after seeing that video that made all of this possible. Not after the teasing Sebastian did earlier. Chris knows how to draw out the fun and have Sebastian a quivering, sobbing mess before he even considers finishing. 

Once Sebastian is dry, Chris cups the back of his head, drawing him in for a kiss and again letting go of his cock. This time, when he backs away, he begins to work off his belt. Sebastian’s eyes drop right to it. To the belt he claims to be his favorite. 

Today, Chris turns Sebastian around, works his arms behind his back, and uses his belt to tie his wrists together. Sebastian moans softly as the belt wraps around his wrists. Even more when Chris guides him back around. 

“Look at you,” Chris says. “Needing my help just to walk now. My beautiful good boy.” He runs a hand from the top of Sebastian’s head to his hip. Makes him tremble and his head droops a little. “Let’s get you into the living room.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian, being guided out of the bathroom with Chris’s hands on his shoulders, takes those steps into the living room. Once they get there, Chris sits on Sebastian’s big, comfortable couch, and seats Sebastian on his lap. 

“Now,” Chris says, grinning when he earns a whimper as his fingers find one of Sebastian’s pert nipples and rolls it between them, “how about we take care of you, hm?”

“Oh.” Sebastian’s head drops to Chris shoulder. “Yes, Chris. Sir. _Please_.”

“Don’t worry, good boy. Now that you’ve shown the world what you can do in public, I’m gonna see what I can do with you in private.” 

Sebastian answers that with a dazed, heated grin, and Chris knows they’re going to have one hell of a good time today. 

Sebastian’s warm and soft and loose, made languid by Chris’s care and Chris’s firmness. He’s safe and happy and drifting, and he’s a little astonished by how fast he’s slid; he makes a small sound, inadvertent, gazing at his Dominant.

Chris pauses. Fingers remain on Sebastian’s nipple, but not tugging or pinching. “Seb? Baby?”

“ ’M okay.” Sebastian wriggles a little. Chris’s lap is so nice. So large and secure and also so expressive, in the sense of being absolutely turned on; Sebastian likes feeling Chris’s arousal, even through denim, against his own bare hip. “Just…a lot. Quick.”

“Too much?” Chris lifts the hand, strokes his hair. “You want to come back up for a sec, talk to me, maybe eat somethin’?”

“No.” Sebastian presses lips to Chris’s throat. He’s not as small or skinny as he’d once been, years ago, but Chris still makes him feel the same way: as if this is the right place for him, the best place, wrapped up in Chris’s arms and Chris’s love. “I want you. I missed you. I want you to do what you promised. Taking care of me.”

Chris gets a finger under Sebastian’s chin, lifts it, searches his eyes. Nods. “Okay. Okay, baby, you’re all mine. I missed you too.”

“I know,” Sebastian agrees contentedly, and squirms against Chris’s cock again. His bound wrists—with Chris’s belt, yes, god yes—tug splendidly against restraints, loving the reminder.

Chris laughs. “My little brat. But you’re not really, are you? You’re just letting me know how much you need me. Just showin’ me how bad you need my hands on you, me puttin’ you in your place…where you belong, Seb, my Sebastian. Over my knee, or on your knees, or tied up in our bed gettin’ fucked until you come all over yourself, screaming my name, the way I want…because you are good for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

The words, the touches, the hand cupping his face so tenderly: they wrap iridescent ribbons around his limbs and make them heavy, drowsy, paradoxically bright. “Yes,” he murmurs, spacey, enraptured. “Yours, Chris, sir…so good for you…”

“My good boy. And you know what good boys need when they’ve been naughty? When they’ve been showing off?”

“Mmm…spanking, sir?”

“You got it.” Chris kisses him, mouth hot and commanding but unhurried about it, dominant and lazy; Sebastian melts further into the radiance. “Gonna spank you right here, on your sofa…gonna get my hand back on you, warm up that pretty ass, Seb, sound good? My hand’s been missing you.”

“Yes,” Sebastian answers, pure and simple, the way he wants. His head’s full of only that. “Yes, sir.”

Chris moves him. Arranges him. Naked, over Chris’s lap, ass pointing up. His cock presses into Chris’s thigh, hardness pinned there and aching in exactly the way he craves. With his arms bound, he has no leverage; his cheek rests against sofa-cushions. Chris is still mostly dressed, and the contrast makes Sebastian’s head whirl more: yes, yes, please. Himself open and needy and vulnerable. Giving everything, giving all of himself, to Chris. Because Chris will take it, will take him, and will keep him safe. Will give him everything he needs.

“Oh, sweet boy.” Chris rests a hand at the back of Sebastian’s neck, pressing down; Sebastian swallows a sob at the welcome weight. “Look at you. I give you just a little attention, and you just come apart for me, don’t you, baby? That’s all you need, all you want, just somebody loving you, the way you deserve to be loved…”

His hand strokes all along Sebastian’s body, over his back, over bound wrists, along the left side of his ass, along his thigh. Sebastian really does sob this time, though he doesn’t quite know why. He’s unsure he’s ever felt like this, at least not so quickly: high as stars, shivery and shaky and fracturing with brilliance.

“My Seb.” Chris rests the hand on his ass for a second. “Twenty. You don’t have to count. I will. But you don’t get to come. You know you don’t, baby. That pretty cock’s all mine, you getting to come is all mine, when and where I say. You know that. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Sebastian moans, cheek pressed into cushions. “Yes, please…”

“Good boy,” Chris praises. And the hand lifts. And swings down.

The sting almost doesn’t instantly register—and then it does, and Sebastian’s gasping and gulping in air, inhale broken into a tiny shriek. Electricity flares in his veins, lightning bursting outward from his ass and straight to his cock and his stomach and his head.

Chris isn’t holding back at all. The second hit cracks just as hard on the other side, and then there are more, raining down. And Sebastian’s sobbing and moaning and shuddering in place, unsure whether he’s desperate to get away or to come or to beg for more, for Chris to never stop, please please please, to keep him here in this place where his thoughts’re swimming in scorching golden syrup and every touch—of hand, of Chris’s jeans, of even the air—crashes over him with loving overwhelming intensity, becoming all he knows.

The rhythm keeps up. For variety, Chris centers a few hits: right over Sebastian’s exposed sensitive hole, all bared and pink from the bath. Sebastian trembles, openmouthed, rocking hips against Chris’s leg. He won’t come—he can’t come, Chris hasn’t said—

He feels good, though. His body feels good: the rub of over-sensitive skin on damp denim, too harsh but exactly right, so nice, himself making that dampness all over Chris’s leg, dripping and needy and leaking, but not coming, no, he’s Chris’s, he’s being good and he feels so good…

The next hit doesn’t hurt. It’s shimmery and tingly, a waft of serene pleasure, a zephyr. He moans. Mumbles Chris’s name. His voice sounds odd. He wants to giggle a little. He squirms hazily; his mouth’s a bit wet, open against the cushions. Chris touches his face, rubs something—a fold of blanket?—under his cheek. Chris says something, tender and glowing. Sebastian’s pretty sure he can _see_ Chris’s voice at this point, one more color in the blurry beautiful haze.

Chris spanks him again, twice; Sebastian, limp and languorous, can’t even move, though his cock dribbles some more fluid over Chris’s thigh.

Chris pauses again. Says his name. Then, “Color, baby. Talk to me.”

That one’s an order, and it sparks through the haze. Sebastian murmurs, “Green, sir,” and tries to focus. “I feel so…I don’t know…can’t think…”

“You sure about that green?”

“Yeah…mmm, sorry…yes, sir…”

“Oh, Seb.” Chris sounds amused. “I don’t care _how_ you say yes, as long as you still _can_. You got two more, but you’re lookin’ pretty out of it. You want me to do somethin’ else? Or finish this?”

“You said two more.” Sebastian blinks slowly up at his Dominant. “Finish it, please.”

“Love you,” Chris tells him, and the first hit—after the pause—makes him jerk in place, unable to stay still, crying out; fresh tears bubble up.

“So good,” Chris whispers, praising him, loving him, “so good for me, baby, taking it so well, taking all of it—one more, just one more, baby, Seb, my sweet boy, you can do this—”

The last one’s the hardest, and Sebastian screams and sobs and falls silent, voice abruptly gone: not because he can’t talk, but because the sensations multiply and clamor and collide and _break_ , becoming liquid, some endless infinite sea in which he’s floating, all cerulean and gold and warm as Chris’s voice, eyes, hands running all over his body.

“My good boy,” Chris is saying, “so good, you took it, you took it for me, all mine, you should see the way you look, baby, how red that pretty ass is, all for me, the way you let me, the way you like it…” and touching him, petting him, caressing him. “And you _didn’t_ come, you’re so good, even though you want it so much, gettin’ us all wet with it…love how wet you get, baby, how much that cock leaks all over us both when you need me…”

Sebastian murmurs something—not words, he can’t think enough for words—and tries to reach for Chris, forgetting he’s bound; his fingers twitch, remember, and then subside. His whole body subsides, at rest, submitting and subsumed by it.

“Aww, baby.” Chris touches the belt, undoes the bindings. Lets Sebastian’s wrists fall free. “Sorry, sorry, forgot. You’re probably sore, aren’t you? Workin’ those arms. It’s okay. I won’t push you with the restraints.”

Sebastian makes a mild protesting noise; his Dominant laughs. “Not today, anyway, Seb. We’ll see about tomorrow. Right now I’m taking care of you. Feelin’ good? Want some more? More of me taking care of you?”

“Yes,” Sebastian announces. This he can manage to say. He’s very firm about this, in fact. Tipsy and giggly and foggy from the pleasure of Chris, but this: this he knows. “Yes, sir, more. Please.”

“Yes, sir, more. Please.”

The way Sebastian asks for more, the edge to his words, the emphasis, Chris can practically _see_ them coming out of his mouth. They’re bold and italicized and underlined, circling around him and then zooming to Chris where they settle right into the warmest part of his heart. 

This is Sebastian wanting him. Needing him. In all the most intimate and vulnerable ways. All that trust he’s handed over is almost overwhelming. Chris nearly collapses under the sheer brilliance of it.

“So good,” he whispers, voice washed away in amazement. “Such a good boy for me.” 

Sebastian, still over his lap, trembles. He’s no longer really crying, but there’s still a bit of weeping happening so Chris reaches for a tissue, soft and plushy like a pillow, on the end table, and gently wipes his face clean. He even holds it to Sebastian’s nose and doesn’t need to tell him what to do. Sebastian clears his nose into the tissue and then turns a pair of shimmering eyes back to Chris. 

Fingers trailing down Sebastian’s spine, Chris smiles and pets a hand over his head. Those eyes fall closed as he nuzzles into the touch. He’s definitely up for more—they’ve both learned their bodies and what they can handle together over these past few years—but Don really worked him today. Chris knows that Sebastian takes care of himself the way he should post-workout, but he wasn’t expecting this. 

“Hey, baby,” Chris says. “I want you to lie here for a minute.” He eases out from under him and gently covers him with the blanket that’s over the back of the couch. “Stay warm.”

Sebastian’s head lifts slightly when Chris stands. He looks at Chris with confusion swimming through his eyes. Almost like he just can’t comprehend why Chris would be getting up at all. 

“Where…” He fumbles a bit with words, his mouth not cooperating very much. “Where’re…”

“Just the kitchen.” Chris adds a reassuring pat to his head. “I’m gonna get you some water. And maybe some _other_ things we might need in here.”

A grin lifts Sebastian’s lips now and, fuck, the things Chris wants to do with that tantalizing mouth. He couches down and steals himself a kiss. Leaves Sebastian with slightly puckered lips when he moves away again. Chris chuckles. 

“Two minutes, Seb,” he assures him. “I’ll be right back.”

Chris tries not to actually run to the kitchen, but he can’t really help himself. For one thing, he’s already anxious to get back to Seb. For another, he doesn’t really like stepping away when Seb’s already so deep into subspace. Endorphins and adrenaline can be tricky at times, and he certainly doesn’t want him to suddenly drop. 

In the kitchen, he finds what he wants in the fridge. A bottle of water. A carton of blueberries. Chris takes the blueberries to the sink to run some water over them and stops back in the bathroom to grab a bottle of lube. He smiles to himself when he looks at it. Sebastian and his long-standing relationship with saying the word lube during interviews and at conventions make his insides glow. His fans completely adore him and it’s so very easy to know why. 

Back in the living room, Sebastian has curled up on his side under that blanket and he smiles before Chris even says anything. Still awake, then, and waiting patiently. Chris puts everything down on the coffee table and when Sebastian’s eyes open that grin deepens. 

“Oh, you like that, do you?” 

Sebastian nibbles on that lip again and flicks his gaze up to Chris. Says, “green,” and giggles at himself. Or at the situation. Either way, he giggles, and the sound is like music.

“Brat.” Chris smiles and tucks some hair behind Sebastian’s ear. “Can you get up?”

“Mhm.”

He’s a little wobbly, his limbs moving like wet noodles as he throws the blanket off and pushes up against the cushions, elbows shaking just slightly. Sebastian stands, and when Chris flicks his eyebrows up, must realize what he’s done wrong. He’d only been asked a question. Chris never explicitly told him to get up and he gapes for a moment.

“Oh…” he whimpers. “Chris, sir, I’m sorry…I…”

Chris takes his chin between his thumb and index finger. Smirks. Kisses Sebastian before he can say anything else. Firm. Passionate. _Claiming_. Sebastian shivers and moans against his mouth.

“ _You_ ,” he murmurs, heated and dominant, “might pay for that. Or maybe I’ll let it slide. We’ll see.” 

He adds one last whisper of a kiss to Sebastian’s mouth and then takes the pillow from the couch, dropping it between them. 

“On your knees.” Chris points to the pillow. “Right there.”

Sebastian moves like grace incarnate. Someone born out of playful beams of sun that light the day and nurture life in the world. 

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, “you’re so beautiful.” 

Giggling again, Sebastian tries to cover his mouth with his hands, but can’t quite complete the movements. Chris opens the carton of blueberries and grabs a handful. Blue already stains his fingertips and the palm they rest in. He doesn’t mind. 

“Open up, baby.”

Sebastian accepts the fruit, carefully taking it right from Chris’s fingers and sucking the bit of juice from the tips of them. Every time he does, Sebastian looks up at him and gives Chris this soft, peaceful smile as though he’s delighted that Chris is taking the time to feed him by hand. When he pauses to give him water, Sebastian, Chris swears, has actual galaxies floating through his eyes. Deep and swirling and filled with endless beauty. 

“You really do like this, don’t you?” Chris takes the water bottle away from Sebastian’s mouth. “Me deciding what you get and when and how much. Me taking care of you.”

Even through that dreamy, far-off look in Sebastian’s eyes, Chris can see the affirmation to his statement. That very same yes he got earlier. The one he’s gotten ever since surprising his sweet, adorable sub this afternoon. 

Chris traces his thumb, still stained with a bit of blue, along Sebastian’s lower lip. This makes Seb open his mouth wider as though he’s attempting to get it into his mouth. 

Most of the blueberries are gone and there’s only a little bit of water left, so Chris knocks that back–never a good idea to forget that he needs hydration as well–and feels comfortable continuing now. Especially with Sebastian resting back on his feet and staring up at him like he’s the grandest thing in the world. That look shoots right through his own cock, filled with need and want and flushed against the rough denim of his jeans. 

“You want something in your mouth, baby?”

Sebastian nods and Chris slips his thumb into his mouth. He gets right to sucking. Emphatically. He even hums around it. A laugh bubbles through Chris’s chest.

“You like sucking on things, huh?” His gaze flicks down when he catches a glimpse of Sebastian’s hand moving toward his cock all thick and swollen and pressing wet little kisses to his belly. He stops just shy of touching, rolling his fingers in and making a tight fist. “You can wait.” 

That’s enough to make Sebastian’s eyes roll back and he damn near devours Chris’s thumb further into his mouth. This gives Chris another idea. It’s not something they do often, but they’ve experimented with it before and found that they both enjoy it.

Chris takes his thumb back and gives Sebastian a scolding look when he pouts–honest to god _pouts_ –at him. When Chris lowers his zipper, however, Sebastian licks his lips like he’s salivating. As soon as Chris works open his pants just enough to pull out his dick, Sebastian lunges for it. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Chris chuckles. “You want this?”

“Yes,” Sebastian whispers. “Yes, sir, please.” 

“Then be _polite_ ,” he admonishes, “and _ask_ first.”

Sebastian whines a little but doesn’t object. He just eyes Chris’s erection and says, “Please, Chris. Please, may I have it?”

“Of course.” Chris rests one hand over Seb’s head and feeds himself to him with the other. “Hold still, baby. I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours. You can touch now, but no coming, right?”

“Mm-mm,” Sebastian says around Chris’s dick and even smiles around it when Chris says, “Good boy.” 

Having Sebastian Stan’s mouth around him like this is the closest to heaven Chris has ever been. That sweet mouth that smiles humbly at the smallest of compliments and thanks everyone for their kindness and shares words of love and tenderness with Chris. 

Chris, hands at Sebastian’s head, eases in further. Eyes falling closed, Sebastian accepts more with little resistance. His hand does find his neglected cock and strokes almost leisurely as Chris falls into a rhythm. He moves in and out over and over and Sebastian takes it so well that it’s a miracle Chris hasn’t lost himself to this ecstasy already. 

“Fuck, baby,” Chris moans. “You feel so damn good.”

Even Chris can hear his accent slip out a little as it does when he’s feeling something particularly passionate or a little drunk, and fucking his Seb’s face is a little bit of both. 

What Sebastian obviously doesn’t expect, however, is when Chris slows and, rather than withdrawing, it pushes in much further than any of his earlier thrusts. Sebastian gags slightly and Chris still doesn’t ease up, and Sebastian must get the idea then since his eyes pop open and fly straight up to Chris’s. 

There’s no protest in them, though, only adoration and devotion, and Chris almost comes from that look alone. 

Still, Chris needs to check in. Needs to make sure that this is okay.

“Blink once for green,” he says. “Pinch my–”

Sebastian blinks that green before Chris can give him any further instructions. Sometimes Chris can’t believe he’s gotten so lucky. That they’ve come to find this place of faith in each other. It’s enough to steal Chris’s own breath away. To float away to the same galaxy that Sebastian flies to where moonbeams lead the way and stardust glitters everywhere. 

Grinning, Chris brushes a hand at the side of Sebastian’s cheek and pushes further still. Cuts off more of Sebastian’s air. After another moment, Chris pulls away just enough for him to suck in a few gulps of delicious oxygen before taking his breath away once more. He does this a few times, letting it last longer and longer with each thrust forward. 

“This is mine too, isn’t it?” Chris says once Sebastian’s eyes begin to water. “Your body. Your heart. Even your breath. It’s okay, sweetheart. You know I’ll always let you breathe again.” 

Chris waits until there’s a slight struggle in Seb’s posture and two tears slip out of his eyes before drawing out completely. When he does, Sebastian falls forward, catching his balance against Chris’s legs and heaving in air while simultaneously gagging and coughing and sputtering out nonsensical words. 

“That’s it, baby, breathe.” Chris, crouched down in front of him, rubs his back and pets his hair and cups his cheeks. “You did so well for me, my good boy. You’re so good for me.” 

He wipes away some drool from the side of Seb’s mouth and then pulls him into his arms. Sebastian is sort of crying without tears in his embrace, trembling and pressing kisses to Chris’s neck and collarbone. 

“Chris…” he weeps. “Sir…”

“I got you, Seb. I’m not gonna let you go.” 

“I was…” He hiccups. “I was good?”

“So fucking good, baby.”

Sebastian peels away from him and meets his gaze and Chris has only seen that ravenous look in his eyes a few times before. 

“The lube,” he manages to say, voice far away and slightly squeaky.

Chris grins. “Are we still green? You wanna use it?”

“Green, yes. Yes, I wanna…green, sir.” 

That right there is good enough for Chris.

Sebastian wants. Oh yes. He wants everything, anything: whatever Chris chooses to give to him. He knows Chris hasn’t specified what, exactly, is happening with the lube. Might be Chris’s fingers—or even Chris’s whole hand; they’ve done that before and it’s left Sebastian flying and floating and singing as comets—or a toy, or just Chris himself: Sebastian’s Dominant and boyfriend and the person who fills up all the old lonely places in his soul.

Sebastian _loves_ the feeling of Chris fucking him. He loves it so much: that big hard length buried deep in him, rubbing against that spot that lights up deep inside; he loves Chris claiming him, taking him, wanting him and loving him.

He tries to say as much. He’s very fuzzy. Like the comets. All incandescent and trailing off. His cock aches, or something does, between his thighs; but it’s an odd sweet feeling, a craving deliciously ignored, almost disembodied. His cock does not matter unless Chris permits him to touch; his orgasm, his release, belongs to Chris.

He’s being good. He lets the feeling wash over him, infusing his bones, bringing radiant tranquility.

He’s Chris’s. The way that feels right, the way he should be. His body, his ability to breathe—and yes, oh yes, he trusts Chris and Chris will always take care of him, exactly what he needs, pushing him precisely as far as is safe—and his heart, which Chris will also keep safe.

He tries to kiss Chris some more: clumsy, loving, wanting to be everything for Chris too.

Chris laughs. Pets him some more: grounding, soothing. “My sweet boy. Needing it so much, needing me so much, and still tryin’ to tell me how much you love me…”

“Always.” Firm, despite celestial glitter in his veins. The day’s bright, despite lavender skies beyond the windowpanes. “Love you, sir.”

“I don’t want to push you too much…” Chris eases Sebastian’s body down onto the couch, onto cushions and blankets. The velvet’s nice against his tingling skin. “But I do want to feel you, baby. Me inside you, you all around me…I missed you.”

“Missed you,” Sebastian murmurs back. “Sir. My Chris.”

“Yeah.” Chris clears his throat, as if a fragment of that glitter’s snuck in there too. “Yeah. I’m yours, Seb. Always. Same way you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Sebastian agrees, drowsy and fierce and certain about this. “Yes.”

“My sweet boy.” Chris bends to kiss him; the kiss is bright too, like the day, or sea-water, or sunlight. Chris’s hand’s stroking Sebastian’s inner thigh; Sebastian’s legs fall apart willingly.

He is a bit tired, but he’s not too tired for this. Not for his Chris.

Chris’s hand bypasses his cock and balls, delving lower, finding that hungry opening to his body. Sebastian, soothed and cherished and enraptured, feels Chris’s fingers caress his hole, trace the rim, rub at him; he makes a sound, or the universe does, as he floats in it.

Chris’s fingers are slick and wet—the lube, he recalls through kaleidoscopic rainbow clouds—and slip into him easily. One, two. Three, deliberately stretching him wider. And wider still: that’s four, not quite Chris’s whole hand but nearly, not the largest part but playing with the idea, playing with him, making him open and loose and so well-used.

He feels it. He feels it all: everything Chris is doing to his body. Chris’s body, because he belongs to Chris, and his hole belongs to Chris, if his Dominant wants to stretch him out or fill him up or tease him endlessly…

He’s moaning softly, more little sighs and quiet panting than anything else; his voice sounds small and soft and euphoric. Chris is talking to him, saying words, praising him: _my good boy, my sweet Seb, so eager for me, look at you, being so good, taking it all, everything I want to do with you…_

The words flood over him, through him, and leave him at peace, trembling with ecstasy.

Chris moves, kneels above him, gazes down at him. Chris remains dressed, or mostly so: he’s towering and authoritative, jeans shoved down, cock jutting out rigid and thick above Sebastian’s naked yearning body. And that luscious voice with all its layers rumbles, “Oh, Seb…love you so much, sweetheart….” And Chris moves atop him, cock pressing into him, right where Sebastian’s so opened up and needing to be taken.

Chris begins gently, long careful gliding thrusts; the slickness helps, and Sebastian’s so ready, but it has been a while and Chris is so very large. There’s no pain, but some pressure, some wonderful awareness of the intrusion and invasion and the way his body quivers and yields, conquered and overrun and glorying in submission.

Chris gets those big hands on Sebastian’s legs. Lifts them, hooks them over his shoulders. Thrusts harder, deeper, faster: a sudden pounding, rapid-fire as rain or thunder or shooting stars. Each plunge hits that blazing spot; Sebastian cries out, head falling back. Chris whispers, “Mine, Seb, all mine, always,” and fucks him the way he needs: profound and wild and shattering.

He can shatter, he can fall apart, with Chris. He can fall into Chris, and be carried safely through.

He’s moaning and shuddering, hips rocking; his cock’s dripping so much it’s smearing across them both, so wet now, getting need all over himself; he knows Chris loves him like this, messy and desperate and drowning in surrender. He sobs and squirms on his Dominant’s cock inside him, mind blissfully hazy; Chris moves a hand, cradles Sebastian’s head, drags the hand down: to his throat, thumb resting against vulnerable skin.

Sebastian’s hips jerk involuntarily. His cock spills a drop of eagerness, bubbling up.

“Just a little,” Chris breathes, voice gone ragged now, near the brink, “not gonna hurt you—just need to show you, make you feel it—all mine, Seb, you’re mine and _I love you_ —”

His hand presses against Sebastian’s throat; it’s not enough to cut off air, not like this—Chris is always, always careful with him—but enough for pressure, affirmation, the weight against each inhale. Sebastian grows lightheaded less from the hand than from the idea of it: he’s Chris’s, so deeply unquestionably so, and he _knows_ it, every piece of him knows it, from his slick clenching hole to his lungs and parted lips.

Chris gazes down at him as Sebastian quivers amid luminous waves, and Chris must see something or feel something good, because that beloved voice groans Sebastian’s name and Chris’s hips slam into his and Chris’s release pours out into Sebastian’s body, deep inside him, hot and powerful and washing away any more coherent thought.

Chris whispers, “Come for me, baby, come for me like this, from me fucking you, me inside you, want to see you come on my dick and me filling you up,” and the hand tightens more and Sebastian’s head swims with radiance and his body gathers and tightens too, and oh, oh, there’s the final wave, the roaring crashing crescendo, and it’s breaking and he’s breaking and the pleasure’s so piercing he wants to scream or sob but he’s voiceless and thoughtless with ecstasy. He dimly feels the spurt of his own release across himself, sticky and white-hot; he feels Chris thrusting once more, pushing that still-rigid girth into Sebastian’s body and setting off more and more riotous flares of color, cacophonous, too much joy.

He shudders and dissolves and collapses. He’s fading, languid, secure and heavy and wrapped up in velvet.

Like his blankets, he thinks slowly; and blinks back to awareness. He is wrapped in his favorite blanket. On the sofa. Being cuddled and petted and kissed by Chris, who has evidently done some clean-up and also lost some clothing, so they’re naked together, lots of skin against skin. He himself has been nuzzling at Chris’s neck, above a tattoo, he discovers; his entire body throbs with wonder, with exertion, with through elation.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Chris runs a hand over his hair, coaxes Sebastian to meet his gaze. “You back with me?”

“Mmm. No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Think you’ve covered all the options, there.”

“Shut up, sir, you’ve decimated my vocabulary.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Chris pets him some more. “So good. For me. How’d I get so lucky?”

“You came home early,” Sebastian says, yawning. “And I love you. I could use some more food, I think…and you. Touching. A lot.”

“Figured. I’ll see what you’ve got in the kitchen in a minute.” Chris grins. “And hold you. Feed you more, I think. Not lettin’ you out of my arms for a while, if you’re good with that.”

“I _did_ ask for that, so yes?”

Chris grins even more. The emotion dances in his eyes, transforming all that blue into absolute happiness. Unquestioned. For Sebastian; for them together. “Brat.”

“You love me.”

“I love you.” Chris wraps arms around him, there on their sofa with the helpful blankets and the empty bottle of water and the lingering exhilaration of pure shared rightness. “Even when you’re teasing me with workout videos. Maybe especially then. I get to come home and show you how much you belong to me. The way you like.”

Sebastian yawns again, nestles into being held, rests his head on Chris’s shoulder. Rightness, he thinks again. Yes.

“Yeah,” he says right back. His throat holds the memory of use; his body holds the memory of use, recent and resplendent. He feels incredible. He feels adored. He loves Chris, and he’s loved in turn. “Thought you’d like that video. I was thinking about you, you know. About this. Wanting you. And then you were here.”

“And then I was here,” Chris echoes, beaming at him, bumping a nose against his, offering fleeting weightless giddy kisses to Sebastian’s eyebrow, the top of his head, wherever Chris can currently reach with lips. Chris’s arms are snug and warm. “Right where I want to be. Coming home to you.”


End file.
